


The Watcher

by Sanalith



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Land Without Magic, Spoilers, finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanalith/pseuds/Sanalith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During an episode discussion on Livejournal, someone asked for a fic that explained how Jefferson knew where to find Belle in Storybrooke, and how he'd even known Rumpelstiltskin and Belle were once an item. This is my response.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Watcher

_**The Enchanted Forest** _

If asked to define himself, Jefferson easily distilled his essence into one word: Watcher. Part of this was simply due to his innate curiosity. Jefferson always wanted to know about _everything_ , no matter how big or small. It was a trait he picked up from his own father, and one he now passed down to his daughter, Grace. Knowledge was a heady thing, and once he had a taste of it, he could never let it go.

The Hat, of course, gave him the means to fuel this fascination. Whenever he heard rumors of tales from nearby lands, he simply took a quick trip to see what he could see. He never stayed long, hating to be away from Grace even for an hour or two, but he couldn’t help himself. He was addicted. He had to _know_.

As time passed, Jefferson understood that his knowledge was much more valuable than a simple balm to sooth his curiosity. The more he knew, the more power he had, and the more he could protect himself and Grace. More than anything, he wanted to live a simple life, in peace, with his precious girl, but he knew from past experience that the Hat was a magnet for trouble. People would always come, no matter how well he hid himself. The more he knew, the more he could plan ahead and ensure Grace’s safety and comfort.

So when heard of the ogres threatening the neighboring kingdom, Jefferson immediately set off to learn all that he could.

The attack itself didn’t worry Jefferson as much as it probably should have. If necessary, they could be packed and ready to run in a matter of minutes, and the Hat could take them halfway across the world, far away from the reach of any ogre. But Grace was happy in their little home, and she had several friends she’d miss horribly if they left. He didn’t want to uproot her if he didn’t have to. If the rulers of the kingdom seemed confident in their ability to push back the ogres, he could return home unconcerned.

Whatever Jefferson expected to find when he exited the Hat into a back hallway in the palace of the Southlands, it was not what he found. Making his way toward the Great Hall, a huge commotion met him - which at first he didn’t mind, as it made it much less likely that anyone would call him out for being a stranger - but when he peered into the throne room, his couldn’t help the gasp that escaped his lips.

He’d heard of the Dark One. Of course he had. It was said that he had given Jefferson’s great-great grandfather the Hat in return for an awful price of which no one dared speak, but he never believed he’d actually SEE the famous imp. And yet there he was, lounging in Lord Maurice’s throne as though he owned it, grinning his trademark grin and promising to rid their land of the fierce ogres...for a price.

Well, if Rumpelstiltskin claimed he’d stop the war, then he’d stop the war, and Jefferson wouldn’t have a thing to worry about. But when the sorcerer named his price - Marurice’s exquisite daughter Belle - his heart skipped a beat. Surely no father would willingly give his only child to such a monster, even to save the lives of thousands. Jefferson certainly wouldn’t, if positions were reversed.

But what couldn’t be taken could always be freely given, ahe girl herself surprised them all, bravely stepping forward and pledging herself as his captive forever. Jefferson couldn’t help but admire her for it, and though it had been many years since he’d felt any true, lasting emotion toward anyone but Grace, he felt his heart melt ever so slightly. Such strength and character, especially among the privileged wealthy, was a true rarity. This girl, he knew, was special.

Giving the young princess a silent but heartfelt thank you, Jefferson slipped away from the crowd, confident in their safety and eager to return to his daughter.

*******

Time passed quietly for Jefferson, which was exactly how he liked it. No tasks to perform, no nobles pounding on his door and demanding to know if rumors of his powers were true. Just Jefferson and Grace, and their little circle of companions. Life was good.

Too good to last.

More whispers began reaching him, despite his remote location. People suddenly feared the ogres would return, that whatever the Dark One had done to keep them at bay would be removed. They must be ready to run, just in case.

It was said that the princess had broken her word and returned home to her father, a fallen woman. Would they pay for her betrayal with their own blood?

These rumors puzzled Jefferson. He’d always been an excellent judge of character, he’d seen nothing duplicitous in the young girl. On the contrary, her face had been open and artless. She’d loudly defied anyone to decide her fate for her. She’d gone of her own free will, and gladly.This was not the type of girl who would break her promises.

Leaving Grace with their neighbors on the pretense of gathering firewood, Jefferson spun the Hat and exited behind the largest tavern in the Southlands. No one talked more openly than drunken sots, and if people truly _were_ worried about the ogres, they’d be drinking that much more to compensate.

In under an hour, various patrons had regaled Jefferson with no less than ten different versions of the story, but they all agreed on the most important facts. Princess Belle had indeed returned, angry and upset, but her father had not welcomed her. In the hopes that the Dark One could be persuaded to keep their bargain, he’d disinherited his daughter, struck her name from the family books, and locked her in a tower. He sent clerics to purify her soul, hoping she would at least show remorse for her betrayal, but apparently to no avail. Ever the one to choose her own fate, she’d flung herself out of the tower window, plummeting to a much gentler death than the “men of the gods” would no doubt have given her.

Jefferson mourned her death. She’d clearly been a good girl, and she deserved better. However, he had his own girl to look after, and she always came first. With Belle’s death, would the ogres be released again in punishment? Would they savage the Southlands and then make their way to his realm?

After careful consideration, Jefferson decided not. If the Dark One had not broken his vows by now, it was unlikely that he ever would. Rumpelstiltskin did things immediately, or not at all, so the stories said. He and Grace were probably safe.

Still, one missing piece bothered him, and his ever-burning curiosity refused to rest.

“Why did she leave?” he wondered aloud. “Why, after promising so faithfully?”

The men that had crowded around him, eager to tell their stories in their drunken stupors, looked from one to the other in confusion. Clearly, this was not something they’d spoken of even amongst themselves.

“I’d have run if it were me,” one offered, though it was clearly more of a question than an answer.

Jefferson laughed without humor. “Then you would have been caught,” he replied flatly. “There is no escape from one such as he.”

“Then he must have let her go.”

As one, Jefferson and his group turned to face a wizened old crone, a woman with a red cloak so dark it was almost black. She’d blended into the wall so well, Jefferson hadn’t even seen her. An odd mistake for him, that.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“He must have let her go,” the woman repeated, her voice soft but steady. “The Dark One would not allow escape, but if he released her of his own free will...” Her voice trailed off.

Entranced by this idea, Jefferson abandoned his former storytellers and sat across from the old woman, learning over the table. “But why would he do such a thing? Only a fool would release such a woman once he had her in his grasp.”

The woman smiled, a flash of white teeth against her dark face.

“And are not all men fools when they fall in love?”

Jefferson’s eyes widened in disbelief. “The Dark One...Rumpelstiltskin...in _love_? Is such a thing even possible?”

The woman laughed, though it came out more as a cackle. “Who knows? Rumors are just rumors, after all. Tall tales blown in the wind, losing all substance as they fly.” She took a sip of her ale. “But you tell me, boy. What else could make so much sense?”

Jefferson’s mind raced. “But if that’s true...when he finds out...he’ll be after blood!” The Dark One may have released her freely, but no man could stand by and allow the ones who drove his lover to her death to go unpunished. “He will release the ogres again!”

The woman shrugged. “Perhaps, perhaps not. Guilt is a powerful emotion, boy. He sent her home to her death. The clerics and her father may have finished it, but he started the wheels turning by himself. That’s enough of a burden for one man to bear, demon or not. I would not worry about ogres, if I were you.”

Jefferson hesitated, but the woman’s words had the ring of truth. Maybe they were safe. Maybe. But he’d be watching just in case.

****

Years passed. The memory of the ogres, the beautiful princess, and her service to the Dark One faded into distant memory. Jefferson lived happily with Grace.

And then Regina came. The one woman who refused the leave him alone, the one woman who knew _exactly_ which buttons to push to make him do her bidding like a pet dog. The things she’d made him do in the past still gave him nightmares. He despised her.

But she could give Grace everything she deserved. Everything Jefferson couldn’t. His daughter’s happiness was worth any price.

So he went obediently to her dark castle, Hat in hand, relishing the knowledge that this would be the last time he ever had to serve her. He could get back to Grace, enjoy their newfound comfort, and maybe - just maybe - he could convince himself to do what he’d been wanting to for years, and burry the Hat entirely.

As he marched toward the throne room, Jefferson passed mirror after mirror, the Queen’s eyes into the various parts of her land. Most depicted lavish rooms hung with black silk and dark jewels. Others showed creatures too hideous to name, locked and chained behind thick doors, awaiting her command.

And one room showed a girl with dark hair, curled into the corner of a dungeon, clutching the tattered remains of a blue dress around her shoulders. Here eyes stared ahead into nothing, her lips parted as if on a silent sigh.

Jefferson almost tripped over his own two feet.

 _Belle_.

The only woman in recent memory to earn his respect and admiration. A woman who’d stood up to her father, her fiance, and the Dark One, and lived to tell the tale.

_Belle. Alive. With Regina._

Jefferson gave an almost feral smile.

He didn’t have time to act now. Regina was expecting him. But suddenly he knew exactly how to pay her back for all the pain she’d caused him, all the suffering he’d endured at her hand.

For if Rumpelstiltskin had truly loved this woman, he would show no mercy to the one who kept her from him.

He’d complete Regina’s task. He’d bring her to that horrid Wonderland, help her take back what had been stolen, and then he’d use the Hat just one more time.

The Dark Castle was one of the few places Jefferson had never gone, but it was time to rectify that.

Oh yes, Regina would pay, and pay dearly. And it would be glorious.

****

_**Storybrooke** _

If asked to define himself, Jefferson easily distilled his essence into one word: Watcher. But no longer did he watch out of simple curiosity, to satisfy some intrinsic itch. No longer did he watch because he wanted to. Now he watched because he had no choice. Now he watched for one simple reason: Knowledge.

Knowledge was power. And he had it in spades.

He had more mirrors in town than Regina, more lackeys than Mr. Gold. Not a single event took place without him knowing. While one spyglass was always trained on Grace - not Paige, _never_ Paige! - the rest were scattered across the town, waiting only for his ever-moving eyes.

Jefferson had no how long he’d been trapped in Wonderland. He’d lost count of the days long before he’d lost his mind. But here...ahhh, here, he watched the time like a hawk. For 28 years he watched the mindless puppets of Storybrooke dance and sing to silent tunes played by the mayor and pawnbroker. Still he watched, and learned, and waited.

When Emma arrived, however, the Watcher could simply watch no more. Now was the time for action.

In retrospect, he’d probably come across too strong, tried too hard to convince her. Perhaps holding her and her dear mother at gunpoint had not been the best way to earn her cooperation. But the bloody woman was taking FAR too long to see the light, and surely SURELY a little push in the right direction would do no harm.

He’d never regained his concept of limits after his stint in Wonderland. It was something he’d have to work on. Later.

Failure left a bitter enough taste in his mouth that he was willing to do things Regina’s way. He still didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, but he couldn’t see a way for the plan to go wrong. And then he would no longer have to worry about the supposed savior. She could take her own sweet time with the curse. He’d have Grace either way.

But then Regina made what Jefferson swore would be the last mistake of her life. She double-crossed him _again_. And this time when his hopes shattered, the last of his restraint went with it.

Hell hath no fury like a father scorned.

Knowledge was power, and right at that moment, he was the most powerful man in town.

Regina had hidden her well. She’d have to, in order to avoid Gold’s far-reaching grasp. It was well into the fifth year of their entombment in Storybrooke that Jefferson first had an inkling that the hospital basement wasn’t as empty as it appeared. His mirrors caught reflections off tiny windows that shouldn’t exist. A certain stony-faced nurse often disappeared for hours on end, with no real reason. Something felt _off_.

After that, it was short work to follow the nurse with his sharpest telescope. He spied the keypad she used and memorized the code. In the dead of night, he crept down, and what he saw made him sick.

The proud, brave princess, reduced to this. A simple cage of iron and stone, but enough - he knew - to drive one mad.

He could do nothing, not then, but he filed this away like all knowledge, knowing that one day it would become useful.

Today was that day.

While the entire hospital focused on the pale shell that was once Henry Mills, Jefferson slipped to the basement with a drugged cup of tea and easily stole a ring of keys. As he hoped, Belle still had enough sense in her head to understand his words.

She was safe, she was free, and she had directions to Gold’s shop.

_”He’ll protect you, but you have to tell him that Regina locked you up. He’ll know what to do.”_

She’d obediently repeated his directions, then ran, as frightened as a bird but with the strong heart that had once beat in the chest of a selfless princess.

A princess once loved by the Dark One.

A princess still loved by the only man who had the power to crush his mortal enemy.

“Fly, little bird,” he whispered, standing alone in the tiny cell, keys dangling from his fingertips. “Fly hard and fast. Fly away home.”

Gold’s pawnshop was one of the few places he’d never been able to spy, so their touching reunion would go unwatched. For once, Jefferson didn’t mind. She’d find him, she’d repeat the words he’d given her, even though she didn’t understand them, and the Dark One would rage that anyone dared take what was once his.

Oh yes, Regina would pay, and pay dearly.

And it would be glorious.


End file.
